Smiling lips and singing hearts

I recently finished reading "Musicophilia" by Oliver Sacks, and I thought that a condition mentioned in one of the chapters is worth posting about here. It is called "Williams Syndrome".

In WS, certain anatomical features are underdeveloped or faulty. This includes certain facial features (you'll see them having unusually wide-eyed expressions), certain heart and artery muscles etc. More importantly, perhaps, specific parts of the brain are highly underdeveloped, while others are either overdeveloped or at least unusually dominate because the others parts aren't developed properly. The parts that are underdeveloped are the ones that have an important role in numerical/logical thinking and spatial sense. The parts that are often overdeveloped or seem to dominate are the ones that have roles in linguistic skills, social skills and apparently emotional impact of music (thats where "musicophilia" comes in).

So, people with WS are highly gregarious... extremely friendly and social with everyone.. they almost completely lack any social inhibitions, so that they seem to be completely comfortable in the presence of almost anyone, regardless of whether they are familiar with them. Moreover, they actually seem to enjoy such interactions and seem to be unusually clued-in to the emotional cues in other peoples behavior/facial expressions etc.

Their linguistic skills are almost always highly developed, making them highly articulate. This, along with their friendly/social nature means that you'll always find them having long, extended conversations with almost anyone. On the other hand, they find it extremely difficult to do even the most simple math problems. You could be talking on phone with someone who has WS and probably won't realize that anything is unusual (other than the person being unusually charming and friendly) until you ask him/her to tell you what 3+5 is. Chances are, they'll fumble through the problem and will probably only guess an answer, which will probably be wrong anyway. Lack of a normally developed spatial sense means that they find it hard to work with even simple geometric shapes (like the toys that toddlers play with) and can hardly draw even simple things like a triangle or a circle. In short, as Sacks says, they are almost anti-autistic in their characteristics.

Sacks talks about some people having WS that he has met. There are really interesting stories here. e.g. when one little girl's mom told her not to talk to strangers, she replied with "but there are no strangers, there are only friends"

Another girl he met (she was about 7-8 years of age) was so clued in to other people's facial features and was so completely uninhibited in front of strangers that she surprised him by sensing his slight diffidence and said promptly something like  "don't be shy! I'll make some muffins for you". This, from a girl, who had never met Sacks before. Sacks had gone to her home to see her and was probably only about as inhibited as any of us would be when we go to someone's house for the first time (Well, some of us are probably more inhibited than others... my diffidence would probably be easy to sense for almost anyone. :P )

Anyway, so she went ahead and got some muffins for him. In some time, Sacks asked her (perhaps after covering the plate, though I am not sure) to guess how many muffins there were in the plate. She guessed, with some effort, "3". Then he asked her to go ahead and count them. She tried and counted them one by one and came up with 8. There were actually 13.

Another girl, a 15 year old, had an IQ of 49 - quite typical of people with WS. So, her average mental level was of around a 7-8 year old kid i.e. about a student of 2nd standard. But that doesn't mean, as I said before, that you'd be able to tell that by just talking to her. It's not as if they seem "retarted" in any sense. math/logic/spatial sense don't work properly, but they are exceptional in linguistics. They are highly articulate, which makes things difficult when they are in new company (difficult for them, sure, but also difficult for these new people). After all, none of us expect someone to be that articulate, YET having mental problems

Take this 15 year old girl with IQ 49. They asked her to tell them about what an elephant is. And her response, quoted below, is amazing in its detail. It is almost as if she is telling a story rather than answering a simple question :

"And what an elephant is, it is one of the animals. And what the elephant does, it lives in the jungle. It can also live in the zoo. And what it has, it has long gray ears, fan ears, ears that can blow in the wind. It has a long trunk that can pick up grass, or pick up hay… If they are in a bad mood it can be terrible…If the elephant gets mad it could stomp; it could charge. Sometimes elephants can charge. They have big long tusks. They can damage a car… It could be dangerous. When they're in a pinch, when they're in a bad mood it can be terrible. You don't want an elephant as a pet. You want a cat or a dog or a bird…"

So, to put it mildly, she knows something about what an elephant is. The amazing part is, after this, when they asked her to draw an elephant, this is what she drew -

copyright: Ursula Bellugi, the Salk Institute

(The labels were put by someone else to help others see what she might've been trying to make. She only made the figure.) Clearly, she knows about the fan like ears and tusks etc, but she can't draw any of those details at all.

The connection with music is pretty interesting actually.. all of them are strongly sensitive and emotionally attached to music. Now, this doesn't necessarily mean that all of them are very good at playing music or singing (though a lot of them are). This is, as Sacks points out, quite unlike musical savants. Musical savants are almost finished articles. They will dazzle the whole world by their exceptional musical talents, yet, they might not necessarily derive as much pleasure out of music as a normal person around them. WS patients, however, invariably feel very strongly towards music.

This strong emotional connection to music, in combination with their completely uninhibited nature means that you'll find them merrily singing or whistling or playing music or swaying to music a lot of times. if you are walking on the road and they suddenly hear you even humming something they'll just smile broadly and will likely start singing along with joy. Some parents/guardians of a lot of WS patients decided to get a lot of together for a camp. Sacks describes what he saw at one of these camps and it sounds amazing. 15-20 people with WS - most, but not all, very young - sit together and talk to each other as if everyone is part of a close family. Talk about everything under the sun. And then, suddenly, someone starts humming and everyone joins in.. Some play their instruments, while others jump in and harmonize. Some just let their bodies follow the rhythm. I'd say that it is pretty sad to know about this, but it's really difficult to feel that way after reading about their joy in these camps or, indeed, their connection to music.

50th post... Potter post..

Pesc suggested that since the blog name is inspired from HP books and none of us seem to write anything about that, perhaps the 50th (and maybe the 100th, the 150th etc.. ) post should be about HP. Well, it is difficult to come up with a good post about a given topic on such short notice (at least I now know how difficult it is for journalists.. always finding new angles to the same old stories and doing that on hard deadlines). So, here is a quick list (my favorite pastime! making lists!) of some quotes/excerpts from HP books that I find really funny. They aren't necessarily the funniest bits; one would have to make a list while rereading the whole books for that. But they are some pretty funny ones that I found on Mugglenet.

Non HP fans, if you decide on reading some of these, understand that they are much more funny when you know the context/characters etc. :)

HP fans, enjoy! (I am looking at you Pesc and SS :) )

--
Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small watery blue eyes, and thick blonde hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel. Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.


--


"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.
"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?" 


--


"Now, you two - Behave yourselves. If I get one word that you've blown up a toilet or - " [Mrs. Weasley]
"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."
"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."


--


Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.
"Don't play," said Hermione at once.
"Say you're ill," said Ron.
"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.
"Really break your leg," said Ron.


--


"Well...when we were in our first year, Harry-young, carefree, and innocent-"
Harry snorted. He doubted whether Fred and George had ever been innocent.


--


(Harry, just being greeted by Percy) "Harry!" said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply splendid to see you, old boy-" 
"Marvelous," said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing." Percy scowled. 
"That's enough, now," said Mrs. Weasley. 
"Mum!" said Fred as though he'd only just spotted her and seized her hand too. "How really corking to see you-"


--


Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair and pulled Ron's predictions towards her. 
'Not going to have a very good month, are you?' she said sardonically, as Crookshanks curled up in her lap. 
'Ah well, at least I'm forewarned,' Ron yawned. 
'You seem to be drowning twice,' said Hermione. 


--


'Her acne's loads better lately - and she's really nice!' 
'Her nose is off-centre,' said Ron. 
'Oh, I see,' Hermione said, bristling. 'So basically, you're going to take the best-looking girl who'll have you, even if she's completely horrible?' 
'Er - yeah, that sounds about right,' said Ron. 


--


'All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?' said Hermione loftily. 'Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you.' 
But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light. 'Hermione, Neville's right - you are a girl...' 


--


"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" said Fred. 
"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" said Percy, going very red in the face. "It was nothing personal!"
"It was," Fred whispered to Harry as they got up from the table. "We sent it."


--


Dudley had done the thing he was threatening to do since age three: He had become wider than he was tall.


--


Ron: "Who're you going with then?"
Fred: "Angelina."
Ron: "What? You've already asked her?"
Fred: "Good point. Oi, Angelina!"
Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him.
Angelina: "What?"
Fred: "Want to come to the ball with me?"
Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.
"All right, then," she said.


--


"What are you working on?" said Harry.
"A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation," said Percy smugly. "We're trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin - leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year--"
"That'll change the world, that report will," said Ron.


--


"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes — thank you, Weatherby."


--


"You’re not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?" said Mrs. Weasley shrewdly. "You wouldn’t be thinking of restarting Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"
"Now, Mum," said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"


--


Harry’s got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament," she [Hermione] said seriously. "If that was the first task, I hate to think what’s coming next."
"Right little ray of sunshine, aren’t you?" said Ron. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime."


--


A week after Fred and George's departure, Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, "It unscrews the other way."


--


"Well, we were always going to fail that one," said Ron gloomily as they ascended the marble staircase. He had just made Harry feel rather better by telling him how he told the examiner in detail about the ugly man with a wart on his nose in the crystal ball, only to look up an realize he had been describing the examiner's reflection.


--


"Er - thanks very much, Ernie," said Harry, taken aback. Ernie might be pompous on occasions like these, but Harry was in a mood to deeply appreciate a vote of confidence from somebody who was not wearing radishes in their ears.


--


A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, then Ron said, "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode."
"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," said Hermione.


--


 The fireworks continued to burn and spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, the other teachers did not seem to mind them very much.
"Dear, dear," said Professor McGonagall sardonically, as one of the dragons soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. "Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?"
"Thank you so much, Professor!" said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. "I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn't sure whether I had the authority..."


--


Hermione drew herself to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her hair seemed to crackle with electricity. "No," she said, her voice quivering with anger, "but I will write to your mother."
"You wouldn't," said George, horrified, taking a step back from her.
"Oh, yes, I would," said Hermione grimly. "I can't stop you from eating the stupid things yourself, but you're not giving them to first years."
Fred and George looked thunderstruck. It was clear that as far as they were concerned, Hermione's threat was way below the belt.


--


Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione's.
"I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"


"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?" said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.


--


"We shouldn't have taken up that stupid subject in the first place," said Harry.
"Still, at least we can give it up now."
"Yeah," said Harry. "No more pretending we care what happens when Jupiter and Uranus get too friendly..."
"And from now on, I don't care if my tea leaves spell 'die, Ron, die' -- I'm just chucking them in the bin where they belong."


--


"...Little Ronnie, a prefect...Oh, I'm all of a dither!" She [Mrs. Weasley] gave Ron yet another kiss on the cheek, sniffed loudly, and bustled from the room Fred and George exchanged looks.
"You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?" said Fred in a falsely anxious voice.
"We could curtsy, if you like," said George.


--


"And that's Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle," said a dreamy voice, echoing over the grounds. "He did the commentary last time, of course, and Ginny Weasley flew into him, I think probably on purpose, it looked like it. Smith was being quite rude about Gryffindor, I expect he regrets that now he's playing them - oh, look, he's lost the Quaffle. Ginny took it from him. I do like her, she's very nice..."


--


"I know I messed up Ancient Runes," muttered Hermione feverishly. "I definitely made at least one serious mistranslation. And the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I thought Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back..."
"Hermione, will you shut up? You're not the only one who's nervous!" barked 
Ron. "And when you've got your eleven 'Outstanding OWLs...'"
"Don't, don't, don't!" said Hermione, flapping her hands hysterically. "I know I've failed everything!"


--


Harry gaped at him. He had not expected this and was not sure he wanted to hear it. Friends they might be, but if Ron started calling Lavender "Lav-Lav," he would have to put his foot down.


--

How d'you spell 'belligerent'?" said Ron, shaking his quill very hard while staring at his parchment. "It can't be B - U - M -"
"No, it isn't," said Hermione, pulling Ron's essay toward her.
"And 'augury' doesn't begin O - R - G either. What kind of quill are you using?" "It's one of Fred and George's Spell-Check ones..but I think the charm must be wearing off.."
"Yes, it must," said Hermione, pointing at the title of his essay, "because we were asked how we'd deal with Dementors, not 'Dugbogs,' and I don't remember you changing your name to 'Roonil Wazlib' either."


--

"There was a clatter as the baskilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione's arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet. 


"Is this the moment?" Harry asked weakly, and the when nothing happened except that Ron and Hermione gripped each other still more firmly and swayed on the spot, he raised his voice. "OI! There's a war going on here!"


--


When he straightened up again, there were six Harry Potters gasping and panting in front of him. Fred and George turned to each other and said together, "Wow -- We're identical!"


--
  

"Mind you, if all the alleged sightings of him are genuine, we must have a good nineteen You-Know-Whos running around the place." [Fred]
"Which suits him, of course," said Kingsley. "The air of mystery is creating more terror than actually showing himself." 


"Agreed," said Fred. "So, people, let's try and calm down a bit. Things are bad enough without inventing stuff as well. For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill with a single glance from his eyes. That's a basilisk, listeners. One simple test: Check whether the thing that's glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it's safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that's still likely to be the last thing you ever do."


--

"You two," she went on, gazing down at Fred and George, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school." 

"You know what?" said Fred. "I don't think we are."

He turned to his twin.

"George," said Fred, "I think we've outgrown a full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," said George lightly.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" asked Fred.

"Definitely," said George.

And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wants and said together, "Accio Brooms!"

Harry heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Looking to his left he ducked just in time -- Fred and George's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor toward their owners. They turned left, streaked down the stairs, and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George, mounting his own.

Fred looked around at the assembled students, and at the silent, watchful crowd.

"If anybody fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three Diagon Alley - Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," he said in a loud voice. "Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," said George, pointing at Professor Umbridge.

"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

And Peeves, whom Harry had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.

--

(This last one is easily the funniest sequence in the whole series for me :) )

The Magic of Enid Blyton

"Parp, Parp" :D Anyone who has read stories about the wooden little boy who stayed in Toyland would know this sound. Yup, I'm talking about Noddy and his bright red and yellow taxi.

Now where did this suddenly come from? Well, the other day my friend and I were talking about all the different types of books that we have read over the past many years, the variety of genres, and the importance of reading books other than those of course which are a part of school curriculum. She suddenly asked me which was the first book that I remembered having read as a non "school book". I promptly (well, perhaps a moment's hesitation was there) answered Noddy!! in Class I :D I have no memory of "book-reading" before that, but I definitely remembered this because starting from Class I to X we have always had a "library period" once a week. There was this large stack of Noddys in our class cupboard to be rotated amongst us and I remember eagerly waiting for that period. That was the time when I entered the wonderful world of BOOKS and discovered the Magic of Enid Blyton :)

It is not that I didn't read books by any other author or enjoy them as much; considering, however, that Enid Blyton has written over 600 books for young children, it is no surprise to me now that every other book that I could get my hands on (via school library or collections from friends' homes) was an Enid Blyton. Be it the Adventures of the Wishing Chair, The Naughty Children series, The Magic Faraway Tree series, Famous Fives, Secret Sevens, The Five Find Outers and the Dog :D or Malory Towers and St. Clare's....I was always in the possession of two or more ( no less, mind you ;) ) of these books. I did have my share of hindi books too...Panchatantra, Heeray-Moti, Nanihaal mein Guzre Din.....but being in an English medium school the ease of access to these books was more.
The world that was woven by her pen was so very enchanting! Anyone who has grown up on these books would know exactly what I mean. Vivid descriptions of the colourful scenery, characters, the delicateness of fairies, wit of the pixies, cunning of goblins and gnomes, power of magicians and wizards and not to forget the portraiture of the scrumptious food :D Toadstool houses and Blue cup cakes!!! I was soooooo fascinated by the thought of it! Funny animals, creatures and plants that could walk and talk!! There were of course lessons to be learnt too from these stories, the rewards of being good, brave, courageous and consequences of being otherwise. Then there were stories of these young children (at least one of whom you could completely identify with) and their adventures, escapades and secret clubs. I remember spending a lot of my holidays with friends pretending we were camping (a bed-sheet tent on the terrace/garden) or having a secret meeting (under the bed) complete with passwords and all :D It was a lot of fun. I sometimes used to wonder why I don't have access to a forest or a river or a haunted castle or caves! Whenever mom couldn't find me/see me/hear me in the house, it would be obvious that I am in "my reading corner" absorbed in one of these books oblivious to whats happening around me :P And what would be a perfect birthday gift for me would be no secret either!! As much as I used to enjoy getting lost in her books, I do owe a lot of my knowledge and development of vocabulary to her too.

If I went into details of the details of what was so great in each of her book series or description of the characters that I find so interesting etc. I would probably be writing a reallllllllly long article :P But I do believe (as would any other person who has grown up reading Enid Blyton books) that those who did not read her books in their childhood have indeed missed something, which unfortunately cannot be caught up with now. I am convinced that reading and immensely enjoying her work developed the "reader's bug" in me and I gradually moved on to other types of books. The kid in me still admits that I would love to flip through pages of her books anytime even today! No prizes for guessing what 5yr olds around me will be reading ;) Thanks Enid for all the magic and joy.

Brangan says it best...

I completely relate with this sentiment on Brangan's blog today..

"I wonder ... if it’s a mere accident of profession that I’m able to easily endure — and be enlightened by–  difficult movies, but fall into impatience with embarrassing quickness in the case of not-so-easy books. Would book critics feel the reverse, embracing arty books over art movies?"


For those who don't know who Brangan is - Baradwaj Rangan is easily my favorite movie critic from India. He is a writes reviews more as just a member of audience who is writing down his thoughts/feelings rather than an expert handing down movie-enlightenment to readers. This is exactly how it should be, IMO. But, more importantly, he is a superb writer.. so, it hardly ever matters whether you agree with his opinion of a particular movie or scene etc. It actually doesn't even matter whether you are interested in the movie at all, because the these reviews are pretty good pieces of writing in themselves. Again, that is exactly how it should be with any review IMO. So, to those who don't know rangan, and might be interested in movies etc, I introduce his blog Blogical Conclusion. 

A tiny platform above the abyss.

Clive Wearing contracted a virus in 1985, a virus that is pretty innocuous in most people (one of the many that give you sore throats for a few days) but changed his life forever. The virus infected his brain resulting in his getting one of the most severe cases of anterograde "Memento" amnesia known. He hasn't formed a new memory in last 25 years. Moreover, the virus also caused severe retrograde amnesia, meaning that a lot of his memories prior to 1985 also went away. A lot of times he seems to be living in 1960s, if you can call chunks of 7-30 seconds of life "living". That is the extent of his short term memory. Think about it. 7 seconds. What would it be like if everything in your mind gets erased in 7 seconds? It is not just a matter of not remembering what happened in his life at any time during last 25 years. As tragic as that is, one could still sort of imagine living the same day again and again if one has, say, half an hour window of memory... something like Memento. You wake up, you don't know where you are, you see your tattoos, you remember your wife was killed, you make notes, you make a plan that you might forget later but at least you can MAKE it. What can you do with 7 seconds?

He lives at a country residence with other similar "patients" with some caretakers. The caretakers encouraged him to write journals. Perhaps they thought it will give him something to do. Perhaps it would help in objectively following his progress. So, here is what you do with a 7-30 second memory. This is how his journal looks -

9:00 am - woke up after a long sleep.
9:15 am - just woke up
9:30 am - Really, overwhelmingly awake now
10:00am - just waking up, despite my other claims

That is about the extent of his thoughts most of the time. Seriously, how do you even complete a thought in 7 seconds? And if you can't, what does ANYTHING mean anymore? What does even "being you" mean?

Still, he has some memories of 40 years ago. Its not as if he has forgotten what the world around him means. And his procedural memory is intact. Which means that things that are part of a "habit" or "muscle memory", things that have become "ingrained" are accessible even if no "event memory" exists of anything since 1985. So, he talks. And he talks about the same things again and again. Because these are the only things that are accessible to him through his procedural memory. He'll talk about astronomy, Queen Victoria, electricity, etymology of words. But perhaps not a lot other than that. He'll throw in a joke. The same joke after every few minutes.It helps him to see that people around him can get the joke. It reassures him that he still has a connection with the world. He keeps talking from the same ingrained "scripts" to make a tiny platform of reality around his present because beyond that platform there is an abyss... nothingness stretching away... Thats what his wife calls it - "A tiny platform above the abyss".

And he plays music. He hasn't forgotten how to do that. Procedural memory. He even improvises while playing. He just doesn't remember that he had just played some music after he finishes. Or that he has made the same "improvisation" again and again perhaps.

And, he remembers, and still deeply loves, his wife Deborah. He remembers her even though the retrograde amnesia has taken almost all other memories from  much before the time when he first met her. Oliver Sacks writes in his book "Musicophilia", where I found about Clive's case -

"... somehow he always recognized Deborah as his wife when she visited and felt moored by her presence, lost without her. He would rush to the door when he heard her voice, and embrace her with passionate, desperate fervor. Having no idea how long she had been away - since anything not in his immediate field of perception and attention would be lost, forgotten, within seconds - he seemed to feel that she, too, had been lost in the abyss of time, and so her "return" from the abyss seemed nothing short of miraculous."

Deborah writes, "Clive was constantly surrounded by strangers in a strange place, with no knowledge of where he was or what had happened to him. To catch sight of me was always a massive relief - to know that he was not alone, that I still cared, that I loved him, that I was there. Clive was terrified all the time. But I was his life, I was his lifeline. Every time he saw me, he would run to me, fall on me, sobbing, clinging."

How would it feel to be embraced with passionate, desperate fervor many times a day by someone who is honestly, sincerely, deeply in love with you. How would it feel to see in someone's eyes that you were missed with the intensity of a decades long separation.. how would it feel to see that every day.. every hour. That you are the only person on his tiny platform. You ARE his tiny platform. For 25 years.

Gerald Durrell

I love reading books. One of my favorite styles of writing is one where the narrative is a first-person account of events and people. It gives you a feel of being in the author's shoes and trying to see the world as he/she describes it.
Currently I am reading Gerald Durrell's "Marrying off mother and other stories". This is the third book by Durrell that I have gotten my hands upon other than the most famous "My family and other animals" and "Birds, beasts and relatives". I was first introduced to the author during my school days.....the English reader had a very interesting humorous account of a boy and his pet donkey in "My donkey Sally". Besides being in the autobiographical style, Durrell's books have this subtle "fun" element in them. Because he is describing real-life events involving himself and his family (including poking fun at them and the absurdity of situations) there is this sincerity which touches you. His ability to delightfully put into words the simplest of events is definitely worth a mention. Additionally, I admire his ability to recall so many of his childhood events, especially in My family and other animals and Birds, beasts and relatives. He claims to have semi-fictionalized some of the stories but most anecdotal accounts involving his brothers Larry and Leslie, sister Margo, mother, Roger the dog and the driver Spiro are true. They are a delight to read, and I must admit I enjoyed them more in comparison to his stories which narrate events of his adult life and his adventures around the world.
One thing that I find interesting about him is that he has not written these lovely books and accounts out of his love for writing; instead, in his own words "they were simply a means to make money to enable me to do my animal work"!! His love for animals definitely shows up in his work and stories.
For anyone who enjoys simple, fun, light reading, Gerald Durrell's works are highly recommended by me. :)